The Devil and Tom Walker Retold
by AmethystKR
Summary: An assignment my American Literature teacher gave me this year. I've decided to post it to see who knows their American Literature then my modern twist thrown in the mix. Beware, this is much darker than the original work done by Washington Irving in 1824


**The Devil and Tom Walker Retold**

**A/N: This was an American Literature assignment I did this year and I decided that I would share it. **

**My teacher wanted a retold version of 'The Devil and Tom Walker' set in modern day. What do you think I should get on this, grade-wise? **

* * *

The small abode was anything but welcoming. As he pulled into the worn driveway with his rundown Ford, he wasn't surprised that his wife's voice managed to surpass the roar of the coughing engine before turning off the ignition.

Tom sighed before reluctantly pulling himself from the driver's seat and as he strolled to the front door steps, he realized that his wife was not complaining, outraged with something he would never a more bizarre and unnerving sound erupted from her familiar lips.

Rage swarmed instinctively in him as he rushed the door and with the strength of his rising adrenaline, nearly tore the door from its hinges.

There was a scream of terror from a well-known voice followed by a grunt of surprise from someone he had never met before. It only took him a moment before he was in action.

Tom Walker paid no heed to the banging of frantic fists in his truck. He was slightly surprised that no one had spotted him when he dragged the limp body to the back of his filthy car and took off in a rush towards the highway, but he knew now was not the time to rejoice.

Things were far from over.

Tom knew that his wife would never call the law on him, she was too insane. He could still hear her laughter echoing in his head as he threw the strange man from his wife and into the wall.

He continued down the free way as his thoughts swam everywhere, he was doing well over the speed limit and slowed down before he got the police's attention.

It was the last thing he needed.

More than likely, she took pleasure in making my blood boil, he thought furiously to himself, to make impulses consume over my common sense. Now once again, Tom was left cleaning up her mess.

He nearly missed the turn in the fading evening light and swiftly got onto a desolate path, where the underbrush over grew and tangled within itself, making the path nearly invisible to view. The tiers shrieked in protest but trudged along towards its destination, the swamp, without further complaint.

Thickets slapped against the windshield as Tom picked up a steady speed, scratching the glass with a sharp piercing noise.

Night seemed to come quickly in the forest and he reached for the lights when something black caught his eye in front of him.

A massive dark shadow stood only a few yards ahead of him, standing like a man with unmistakable red eyes that gleamed as the lights flashed into them.

The wheel spun from underneath his fingers and he took a sharp swerve off the road, nearly breaking his neck. Fear jolted through out his body as he realized what was happening.

In vain, he attempted to grasp the wheel, only to pull away with a gasp as pain surged up his arm. The steering wheel began to melt and liquid metal dripped onto his pants.

He looked up to see a giant oak edging closer and it felt like the car grew momentum on its own accord.

The last thing he saw before the impact was the speedometer needle spinning wildly and cracked as his head collided into the dash board.

When the pain woke him, Tom was disappointed that he wasn't dead. He let his head rest against the shattered glass and refused to open his eyes.

His hands ached with a fierce wave of pain and felt sticky pressed against the small sound system. He could tell it was badly burned but knew he was lucky he couldn't feel the pain in full force yet, still suffering shell shock.

His legs were stiff but he gathered that they weren't broken. He tried to move them from the brake pedal and swallowed the words that formed on his tongue. He has forgotten the metal that had dripped onto his lap and fear rocked his body at the possible side effects of the contact.

After Tom gathered up enough energy he pulled away from the dash and paused briefly as his stomach clenched with nausea. He dragged himself out of the wreckage to accumulate the damage.

The windshield had resorted to tiny shards of glass that sprayed across the hood and forest floor, cutting into his shoes with a crunch as he stumbled. The hood itself was hugged around the truck of the oak, which appeared unmarred by the collision. One of the front tires was lost at some point and was off somewhere in the thick brush.

As Tom limped over to the back of the car he saw in the corner of his the same dark mass looming close from the dark trees.

"Who is that?" Tom demanded hoarsely. The shadow didn't stir for a moment then took a step closer to the car. Tom couldn't find the feeling in his legs to step back at the slow approach.

"I'm awfully sorry about that," chimed a thick voice from the shadow as it continued its way toward Tom, "You see, I'm not use to many visitors."

Tom was puzzled as his eyes focused as the mass produced a visible face and features. He was about 6'5 with wild, windswept black hair. His sharp face was rugged and smudged with filth. But his eyes had the same red hue radiating from his sockets as the man that stood in front of his car earlier.

His gaze immediately went to the trunk, if this strange man saw the body he would be in trouble. The dark man followed his gaze as if he could see perfectly well in the dark as one in the day time. He gave a robust laugh, a mighty sound that grew and stretched in his lungs, and Tom jump, startled and confused at the sudden humor on the strangers face.

"Dr. Dylan L. Kane," said the man simply, "a well to do therapist, by the looks of it," he added after a thought and grinned. Tom had no idea what he was talking about and found him to be on the verge of madness if not already there.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Tom asked as he turned his back to the man as he went to the trunk, "Any way of contact at all?"

"I wouldn't if I were you," he dark man interjected, "what's on the other side is not for the faint hearted." Tom eyed him with awe and the man continued. "Broke his neck from the impact, but he was already in pretty bad shape when he got here."

Tom pulled away from the trunk. He wasn't that concern of his cargo and besides, he couldn't hear anything in there and he didn't want to see if the crash had killed him or if he was suffering the agony of a slow death. He turned back to the man who had managed to sneak closer to the wreck without a sound. "Who are you?" Tom inquired.

Another laugh bellowed from the dark man and he straightened his shoulders, seeming to grow another two inches. "I own these lands," was the only answer he gave.

Tom felt a wave of energy surge through him as the man spoke and felt it better to leave it at that. "And for your other question, I do not own one."

How was he supposed to get out of here? He couldn't get a hold of his wife and Tom wasn't sure that he could trust the man that stood bemused beside him; his eyes appeared to have grown even brighter in the short conversation.

"Sir, do you know any way out of here," Tom pleaded, "I need to go home to my wife." The dark man stared at him for a moment before answering.

"You know, I like you," He said with a flash of his white smile, "not many people manage to survive something like that. You must have a strong will. My name's Silver Tongue." The man surveyed Tom's quizzical face with a grin.

It was an odd name. Was this stranger an Indian? He hadn't known of any reservations in the area. "Though you do look a little bent up," Silver Tongue stated matter of fact, "I don't see what your wife can do to help you, and she's the one who got you into this mess…" He trailed off into incoherent mumbles as if deep in thought.

Tom couldn't find himself to be surprised at the stranger's knowledge and continued to stare at the man in silence.

Silver Tongue was still talking, quietly now, to himself and it appeared they he was in a slight predicament. Though before Tom could interject with the dark man's thoughts, he suddenly straighten up in a physical feet of victory, happy with his conclusion.

"Listen here, Tommy Boy," Tom glared at him with the sound of his old nick name, "I have for you, a proposition." Silver Tongue's brow arched as he spoke, bearing down on him with a wicked grin.

His eyes flashed as if it reflected something evil from within him.

"I'm dying; I don't have time for this." Tom gasped as pain surged through him. He fell to his knees and a little trickle of blood ran down his ear.

A fit of coughs suddenly came over him, blood poured from his noise and out his mouth, nearly causing him to gag.

Silver Tongue followed suit, placing his rather large, filthy hands on his shoulders, looking at him with pure concern on his face. He did it like he had known Tom his whole life and the fact that he didn't frighten him.

This man couldn't possibly be sane.

"You don't have long," Silver Tongue spoke softly still, "I can help you."

"You can't help me," Tom said flatly as he tried to pull away, only to feel the large hands on his shoulder to squeeze until he had to bite back a cry of pain.

"Look at me," Silver Tongue demanded. Tom face hung loosely, taking in the view of his muddy feet that were beginning to bathe in a thick warm liquid. "I said look," his voice grew dark and Tom found his eyes meet red ones on their own accord.

"Who the hell are you?" Tom shot back with his last ounce of strength. He was surprise to see the smirk return to Silver Tongues filthily face.

"Well, I thought I already told you," his voice had taken another feel to it now and Tom was washed with a surge of panic and apprehension. His eyes grew wide with realization as a spark glinted in the red eyes of true evil.

* * *

"Oh, well, that took you long enough." She was sitting on the couch when Tom barged past the front door, still in ruin on the floor, the hinges torn from the wall and pieces of the wood and plaster laid splintered across the worn carpet.

"Shut up, wench," Tom sneered as he walked past her into the bathroom. She followed right behind him and stood in the doorway as he grabbed the toilet paper and ripped shreds of it from the roll.

"You're covered in blood. What the hell happened to you?" she asked indifferently but still went to him and took a wash cloth from the iron hanger on the wall and soaked the rag under the sink.

"I ran into a little trouble…" Tom grunted as his wife began to scrub the dried bits of blood from his body. There was no wound that could be found, no sort of abrasion marred his skin, but bruises colored him in all sorts of colors ranging from blue, purple, and sickening yellow-green.

"You didn't kill anyone else, did you?" She asked as she threw the cloth in the sink, letting the water run over it, turning a thick crimson before it vanished down the drain.

"Shut up", Tom snarled at her. She stumbled back, startled, and then regained her composure with the lift of her chin.

"Excuse you." She demanded hotly, grabbing the cloth from the sink suddenly and hurling it at him with fury. He snatched it before it managed to make any contact to him and tossed it over his shoulder. With empty hands, Tom raised his fist and cast an evil smirk towards his wife as she suddenly coward in the corner of the room.

"I'm tired of you, but damn me if I lay a hand on you." Rage emanated from his throat more as a growl than anything human. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her up to her feet.

"Let go of me!" she gasped as he tugged her away from the bathroom and out the front door. His large, callused hands seized her mouth and lifted her into the backseat of the car. He settled above her as she struggled.

"I life for a life, love, and it sure as hell isn't mine." Tom whispered gruffly in her ear. Her eyes grew wide and she fought more violently against him but he only snickered at her attempts and felt the pulse of her neck before pinching her nerve for her to pass out. "A sick part of me will miss you, but things are better off this way." If he could have fooled himself, the remorse in his raspy voice wouldn't have stunned him.

* * *

"I brought the dept." Tom let the old ford idle as he stepped out. He hadn't bothered to ask questions when Silver Tongue offered him life and grasped his shoulders without answer.

He knew what he was dealing with when he found himself the next minute covered in his blood yet with no would to bare. The memories seared and gnawed at the edge of his conscious.

_He had no idea how long he was out before Silver Tongue, who had undoubtedly taken a liking to him, was pulling the body of the therapist out of the truck and began to dance with him; humming along with the motions before he seized his neck and a guttural flesh tearing noise made him cringe, turning his eyes away. Tom's mind screamed for him to run, but he wasn't stupid, there was no chance out of this._

"_Bring me your wife and I won't come for you." A deep grumble muffled in bloody flesh spoke a moment later. Tom refused to turn towards the voice, fear gripped him immobile. "I pity your state, but if you refuse to pay this dept I will be forced to seek you out," Silver Tongue paused before adding "I hope you don't disappoint me," as an afterthought._

_It was as if the grip that held him broke at the words and he flew to his feet, stumbling only a little as his legs felt numb under him, and dashed for the ford. _

_The vehicle itself was a marvel and symbolized the terrible power Tom was presently faced with, as he settled as comfortably as he could he realized that his car was in pristine condition where as the scars were still clearly visible in the sturdy oaks in front of him. It was the only thing that proved he was not dreaming, those deep gashing in the trunks of those trees that only mental could have caused. _

"_And Tommy," Silver Tongue was suddenly leaning his head into the car as if to get a better look at Tom's terror, "before dawn." He inhaled deeply, appearing to achieve a great high over his perpetual fear, before pulling slowly away with a deep smirk full of amusement and fascination._

"Good old chap," a shadow loomed over Tom and gave a clap over his back that nearly sent him to his knees, bringing him back to the present with a serge of dizziness. Willing away any emotion he was feeling, the guilt eating at him, the shame at his own cowardly acts, Tom avoided those cruel, red eyes of a real monster.

Silver Tongue blinked down at him a moment as if Tom had done something oddly interesting, smiled, and then turned his attention to the limp women in the back seat of the Ford.

Tom made sure not to look, taking more of an interest with studying the tree canopy that was gradually fading to a misty grey of morning. Mean while, Silver Tongue opened the door as Tom's wife's eyes fluttered open and she let out a scream that set the dark man booming with laughter.

He snatched her roughly out of the car and flung her against the nearest tree, knocking the breath out of her, yet she still struggled to stand before he strolled causally to her, seizing her wrist tightly and pressing her back into the unforgiving bark of the marred oak.

"I will have great fun with you," Silver Tongue whispered menacingly against her ear before he took it into his mouth. She screamed in agony as he tore away at her lobe and raised her off her feet.

Tom rushed back into his car as he heard her scream again and fought against himself as his gaze settled back to his wife, who was gripping the monster's broad shoulders, blood pouring from the side of her head where her ear should have been. He had her against the tree, disheveled, as he gripped her legs and forced them around his waist.

Hitching up her dress, he grabbed her hips and brought her roughly into him. Silver Tongue, the devil, groaned as he impaled her, feeling her sex hug him securely. She screamed as a new wave of agony and tears flooded down her bloody face, and her only answer was his repeated violent thrusts.

Tom felt the bile rise and allowed himself to relieve a portion of his overwhelming torment to splatter ungracefully onto the forest floor. With hace, he threw his gear into drive and drove from the forest as fast as the car could manage. A few miles off the highway, he left the acursed car to rust, wanting nothing that would affiliate him to Silver Tongue or the evil that still lingered from his presence.

No one ever saw Tom again but its needless to say that the devil remained with him that day on.

* * *

I would love to know what you thought of it! Excuse overlooked grammer mishaps.


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